


Never Let Me Go

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Grief, M/M, crazy!Cas, fallen!cas, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s dead. Cas <i>knows</i> he’s dead, but he finds it really hard to believe when he can feel Dean’s heartbeat under his fingertips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic ever! I'm still getting used to the characterization of these guys, and coding this thing for posting has made me realise that I use italics far too much, but I'm happy that it's finally done. I'm going to stop making excuses for myself now and just let you get on with the fic.

Dean is dead.

But Cas is human now, and he can’t fix Dean’s heart. Not when it’s laying a meter away outside of Dean’s body.

He clutches the man to his chest until his own shirt is drenched in just as much arterial blood as Dean’s is. He doesn’t move, he can barely breathe, and the only discernible difference between him and the corpse in his arms is that he’s alive. Or is he? He doesn’t feel like he is. It feels like his heart has been ripped out of his body. He looks up, and there it is. Sitting barely out of arms reach. He gasps like he’s drowning.

“Cas?” The soft, inquisitive voice quavers nervously behind him. “Is Dean… is he okay?”

And Cas snaps, because he can’t handle Sam’s grief as well as his own. _He can’t._ He screeches at Sam as his hands claw at Dean’s shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He shouts and curses without thinking. He can’t even hear what he’s saying, doesn’t know which phrases are making Sam look six years old with tears streaming down his cheeks. When Sam levels the gun at him, he thinks Sam is going to shoot, that maybe he pushed him too far, but Cas doesn’t care. _He doesn’t. Shoot, Sam. Shoot me so I can be with him because I’m too cowardly to do it._

But Sam doesn’t shoot. Doesn’t shoot _him_. He pulls the aim of the handgun away at the last second, and bullet after bullet imbeds it into the corpse of the monster behind him. The sound drowns out his voice, and he’s not even sure if he’s still screaming, but he can feel his vocal cords vibrating painfully in his throat so he must be. The gun runs out of ammo, and Sam turns abruptly. He punches the doorframe – resulting in a loud bang and a louder crack – before Cas’ words chase him out of the warehouse. Cas’ eyes focus on the smear of blood where Sam’s knuckles broke against the wood so he doesn’t have to look at Dean or his abused heart. He feels himself growing colder with each degree that the corpse’s temperature drops, and he’s pretty sure that his fingers are so soundly embedded in Dean’s clothing – or maybe skin, he can’t tell anymore – that they’ll have to be separated surgically.

And Cas thinks he’s still screaming – although he can’t hear it – and he doesn’t know how to stop even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t see Sam again for weeks.

x x x

“Cas?”

Cas doesn’t recognize the voice at first because it sounds decades older than the man it belongs to, but when he spots the classic black car pulling up out of the corner of his eye he knows it must be Sam because it can’t be Dean. It will never be Dean again. It feels like something has reached inside his chest and is ripping and contorting his organs, and in a sick, twisted way it makes Cas _happy_. This is the most emotion he has felt since he left Dean in that warehouse.

“Why are you still driving his car? You have no right to drive that. It was _his_.” Cas’ words end with a hiss, and he knows he sounds caustic. The words taste like acid on his tongue, but Sam’s still smiling that sad little smile and it makes Cas _furious_.

“I thought he’d want me to have it. To remember him by. At the very least he knows… knew… God, I’m not even sure… I’ll take care of it, okay? It won’t end up in a junk yard or as some douche’s trophy.” Sam’s bitter laughter echoes between them, reaching out of the Impala’s window to accost him on the sidewalk. He wishes the window was up, so that the glass would shield him from Sam. “I’m starting to talk like him, aren’t I?”

_No_. “How was the funeral?” He doesn’t care, but if Sam drives away then Cas will feel empty again and he hasn’t yet decided if that’s something he despises or longs for.

“Fine. Sad, but we gave him a hunter’s send off. He saved so many people it seems like it should have been some grand event, but it was more personal this way, I guess. I tried to invite you, but I couldn’t track you down.” Sam’s voice trails off, unasked questions hanging in the air. Cas remembers that night but he doesn’t volunteer an answer. He had stayed with Dean until he heard police sirens. Cas wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours or days after Sam had left. He knew he had to hide the body of the murderer – a corpse so convoluted that even after being riddled with bullets it was clearly recognizable as not human – so he had slipped Sam’s cell number into Dean’s pocket so the police would know who to call and had disappeared. Even Cas isn’t sure where he went after that.

“Where are you going?” Cas’ voice is empty, and he knows it isn’t what Sam wants to hear but he doesn’t want to talk about Dean anymore. It hurts too much.

“Heading home from work,” Sam smiles again but sounds too cheery, like he’s trying too hard to pretend that Cas isn’t avoiding questions about where he was and how he feels about his dead lover. “I’m a secretary at a law firm. I’ve got a little place a couple blocks from here, and I’m thinking about going back to school.” Sam’s expression softens, for real this time and not forced like before. “Do you… Cas, you should come home with me. Get cleaned up and have a warm meal.”

“No.” Cas says flatly. It would be too much like old times, but Dean won’t be there and that will hurt. He doesn’t think he can handle this new eager-to-be-happy-but-trying-too-hard Sam on his own.

Sam’s face crumbles for a second, then hardens. He gets out of the car, and even though he is meters away Cas feels Sam’s imposing height looming over him. “Cas, you really need to come with me.” He starts walking around the car and Cas thinks Sam is going to grab him, throw him in the trunk and murder him out in the woods. Sam is going to kill him to get rid of the reminder that his brother is dead, or just to get revenge for whatever Cas said that night to break his heart. Cas stumbles backward, but Sam doesn’t lunge for him. He opens the passenger side door and looks at Cas pleadingly. He’s begging.

“Cas… _please_. You’re… you’re still wearing the same shirt. You’re covered in blood and I really don’t want to have to bail you out of a jail cell.”

_Oh_.

x x x

Sam takes him to the two bedroom apartment (Sam comments that he “thought it’d be good to have a guest room, just in case,” but Cas barely hears him and definitely doesn’t process what he’s saying) and steers him towards the washroom. He turns the water on and lets it run until condensation starts forming on the mirror, and he sets a clean pair of pants and a grey t-shirt on top of the toilet before leaving Cas to clean himself up. Twenty minutes later there’s a furtive knock on the door and Sam lets himself in. When he realizes that Cas has been standing fully clothed under the spray of water since he left, Sam strips them both down to their boxers and scrubs Cas down as quickly as he can. At first he mumbles on about being sorry and how he’s really not trying to make a move on Cas and something that sounds like “no homo,” but when Cas’ tries laughing – just to have something to say – the too harsh sound echoes off the tile walls and Sam quiets. Cas assumes Sam thinks he’s crazy. That’s okay; Cas thinks he’s crazy, too. He watches the old blood matrix in the water on the floor of the shower until there isn’t any blood anymore. Cas doesn’t feel a particular way about that, but he misses the warmth instantly when Sam deems him “clean enough” and shuts off the tap.

Sam climbs out of the shower and dries Cas off when he doesn’t make a move to do it himself. The taller man hovers by the sink for a moment, seeming to deliberate between leaving Cas to dress himself and helping him out. Cas grabs for the pile of fabric – to spare Sam the embarrassment and so he’ll finally be _alone_ again – but as he does so, he knocks Sam’s razor over and cuts his hand. Apparently this was the sign Sam was waiting for, and he jumps into action. He cleans and bandages Cas’ hand and deftly maneuvers him into clothes while Cas more or less ignores him.

Cas’ eyes snap back into focus as Sam stills, and then rapidly starts apologizing. He stumbles over his words and tugs insistently on Cas’ t-shirt, but Cas still isn’t cooperating. His cold blue irises finally lock on to his reflection in the mirror, and after a moment of searching he sees it. The red AC DC logo branded across his chest. The logo that he had traced on the occasional mornings that he and Dean had actually managed to stay clothed. The shirt still smells like him, and tears well up in Cas’ eyes. Sam freezes in his frantic attempts to hide the four red letters.

“Cas?” Sam says slowly, looking at him as if Cas is a caged tiger capable of ripping his throat out without warning. Cas barely notices, eyes focused on his reflection, still spilling tears as if the levee has finally broken. He thinks this might be the first time that he’s cried, but he isn’t really sure.

“I…” His voice quivers and breaks. “I… leave it. It hurt so much I forgot I could be happy. We were happy. When we slept in too late in his bed and I spent all morning just tracing him with my fingers. We were happy.”

Sam’s eyes well up with tears and he doesn’t say anything. He just pulls Cas towards him as a sob rips it’s way out of Cas’ chest. Cas isn’t sure how long he stands encircled in Sam’s arms – Sam’s chest heaving with sobs and Cas keening for his lost love – but he is sure that this is the first time he’s felt human in a long time. When they finally fall quiet, they’re just as soaked as they were in the shower.

Sam silently steers Cas towards the couch and turns the TV on before disappearing to the kitchen. He doesn’t change the channel and neither does Cas. A few minutes later he deposits a mug of hot chocolate in Cas’ hands and sits down beside him. They both just stay there – motionless – watching infomercials and clutching their mugs without actually drinking anything until the clock blinks 2:43 and Sam decrees that he needs to work the next morning. He takes the full, cold cup from Cas’ fingers and places it on the end table as gently as if it were made of glass, hand shaking. He offers an outstretched arm, but Cas manages to lever himself off of the couch and follow Sam down the hall without any further assistance. When Sam leaves him at the entrance to the spare room, he hovers in the doorway for a moment before leaving. Sitting gently on the edge of the bed, tears jump unbidden to Cas’ eyes again as he realizes that this is probably the first time he’s slept in a proper bed since Dean died. Ergo, the last time he slept in a bed was with Dean.

Cas burrows under the covers and cries himself to sleep.

x x x

When Cas wakes up in the middle of the night, he isn’t sure what time it is. He is sure of what woke him.

_“Cas.”_

Cas feels frozen, feels the ice flowing through his veins as a too familiar voice caresses him from the dark. He feels the mattress depress behind him but doesn’t turn around. If he turns around and there isn’t anything there, it will shatter him. If he turns around and there is something there, it will prove once and for all that he is crazy. 

“Dammit Cas, look at me!”

_No. No I can’t. I can’t lose you again._ Cas flinches as something touches his shoulder gently, then presses down firmly to roll Cas towards him. Cas closes his eyes as tightly as he can until his temples hurt from the strain. He almost forgets to breathe – feels lightheaded – until something warm brushes lightly against his lips. That shocks him, and his eyes fly open and are met by green.

It’s a shade of green that he hasn’t seen for weeks, set in a face that he hasn’t remembered quite right despite countless mornings trying to memorize it. Cas reaches up to touch Dean’s cheek, and the mouth draws back in a grin under his fingertips.

“Hiya Cas.”

Cas’ chest tightens so much it hurts. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, but he does know he wants to hold Dean and never let him go. He jolts upright and wraps his arms around the other man’s muscular frame, knocking him backwards. Dean laughs and strokes his hair as Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder.

“You’re dead,” he gasps, tears that he didn’t expect and doesn’t quite know what to do with streaming down his face.

“Yeah, I am.” He hears Dean’s voice huff, and Cas can’t tell if it’s from amusement or frustration. “At least, I think I am. But I’m kind of alive in a parallel universe. Tyler Durden sort of way. Shit. I can’t explain it. I don’t even really understand it, but I’m alive as long as you’re thinking of me or something completely sappy like that.”

“But how? I can feel you; you’re not in my head.” Cas doesn’t really care how, but he does want Dean to stay. He never wants him to leave. Dean had forced Cas to watch Fight Club and Cas _knows_ that Tyler is an illusion. But Dean can’t be an illusion, not when Cas’ arms are clutching him so tightly that Cas isn’t sure he’ll be able to let go.

“The monster that killed me… did something. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I guess this is the result.” Dean falls quiet, but that’s okay because it’s a comfortable silence. They sit like that for a minute before Dean gently levers them back so they’re laying on the mattress. Dean’s arms are still wrapped around Cas, and Cas can feel his heart – their heart – beating for the first time since Dean’s death. Dean traces patterns on the back of Cas’ neck, and as Cas slowly drifts off to sleep. He hears Dean whisper, “just don’t forget about me, okay? Don’t let go. Never let me go, Cas.”

When he wakes up, Dean is gone.

x x x

When Sam gets home from work, he drops his lunch bag in shock at the sight of Cas in the kitchen. At first the amount of smoke indicates that Cas might be attempting to burn his apartment down, but when Cas spins around to the sound of his lunch hitting the floor, Sam sees he’s stirring a boiling pot of… something.

“Everything okay, Cas?” He asks hesitantly, not really sure if he wants to hear the answer. Cas smiles at him, because despite his failure at making a cake he is happy, really happy. He saw Dean last night and Sam is home and it’s almost like old time again.

“Yes, Sam. I’m making a cake… I attempted to… I’ll clean up.”

That makes Sam laugh, and he hurriedly takes off his suit jacket to join Cas at the sink, rolling up his sleeves to dry dishes as Cas washes them. Cas splashes Sam and Sam ruffles his hair with the towel, and for a moment Cas forgets all about the horror of the past weeks and just lets go. He gasps as he slips on a soapy puddle on the floor, then grins at the shocked expression on Sam’s face. Within seconds he’s pulled Sam down with him and they’re wrestling on floor, giggling like girls.

That’s when Cas _remembers_. He freezes and sits up; a strangled noise that he thinks was supposed to be a sob works it’s way out of his throat. Dean isn’t here and will never be here because he’s dead and because Cas forgot. Cas lunges to his feet and stumbles unsteadily down the hallway to his room. He hears Sam’s voices calling out to him, but no footsteps. Doubtless Sam has learned to leave Cas alone when he’s like this out of self-preservation. Cas trips through the doorway and collapses, kneeling at the edge of the bed. The door slams shut behind him even though Cas didn’t touch it.

“What. The . Hell. _Cas._ ” The voice snarls from behind him, and Cas can feel his stomach clenching like he’s going to vomit except he hasn’t eaten all day so he can’t. He flinches as the next words come, sharp as knives twisting in his gut.

“What was that? I thought you loved me, Cas. I thought you _needed_ me.” The words should sound needy, desperate, or at the very least furious, but they don’t. Cas gasps – hands twisting furtively in the beds sheets, just needing to hold on to something – as Dean’s malicious words wash over him. They sound like venom, and when Dean grabs Cas’ chin to force his head up and met his eyes, Dean’s eyes are cold and empty. Cas swallows as Dean grins.

“You _do_ need me. Remember all those weeks when you thought I was gone? You were _useless_. Couldn’t even dress yourself. You needed Sam to put the pieces back together. You know how pathetic that is, Cas? You are _nothing_ without me.” Cas closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Dean’s expression, but he can’t block out Dean’s voice. He body heaves with sobs as he prays for it to all be over because Dean is _right_. Cas used to be an angel of the Lord, but without his wings he’s useless. He doesn’t know how to survive as a human; he can barely keep himself alive. Dean was the one who held him together, and now that Dean is gone Cas can’t go on. He doesn’t know how. He gasps for air but his lungs don’t seem to be working because he can’t breathe. His veins feel like ice, and he can’t even think anymore. He hears a desperate whine an he’s pretty sure it came from him.

Distantly, his brain processes that Dean is moving. He feels arms wrap around him and warm pressure against his back. Dean is sitting behind him, his chin on Cas’ shoulder and his breath mingling with Cas’ too fast heaves for oxygen. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat pressed between his shoulder blades, and he paces his inhales with Dean’s to calm himself down.

“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll protect you.” Dean’s voice is a gently whisper against Cas’ ear, his words vibrating through Cas’ body. “Never let me go, and I’ll never let go of you.”

x x x

Cas wrenches the door open and is greeted by a surprised Sam, hand poised as if to knock. He can’t even look Sam in the face; he’s so ashamed of how weak he’s been.

“Cas, are you okay? I heard you screaming and talking to yourself, and…” Sam trails off, looking desperate. He needs an answer, and this time Cas has one for him.

“I’m leaving.” Sam’s breath hitches and he searches Cas’ face like he’s not sure he heard him right. Cas repeats himself, stronger this time. Sam has to know that he means it or else he won’t let Cas go.

“I have to leave Sam. This is too painful for me. I can’t stay here with you and Dean’s t-shirts and forget it ever… I have to go.”

“Cas…” Sam swallows like he doesn’t quite know what to say, but he plunges on regardless. “You were so… unresponsive when I found you. It was like you weren’t all there. I know the past couple days have been hard on you, they’ve been hard on me too, but you’re making progress. You were laughing today, Cas! Do you know how great that sounded? It’s going to hurt for a while but you’re finally moving on. It’s…”

“NO.” Cas practically shouts the word and Sam jumps. He can’t move on, because if he does he’ll never see Dean again. Not being with Dean, now that he knows it’s possible, would – it would do worse than kill him. He doesn’t know how to function without Dean. It would empty him out until he was stuck in limbo, losing time and everything that makes him human and angel. Everything that makes him Cas.

Cas pushes past Sam, but Sam reaches out to grab his arm. “Stay, Cas.” Sam pleads, desperate now. “I heard what you were saying. You were talking to Dean, but he’s dead Cas and you can’t bring him back. If you’re seeing him, you need help. You need me to help you through this. You can never have him back, Cas. It’s time to let go.”

Cas wretches his arm from Sam’s grasp with a growl. He doesn’t need Sam’s help anymore; he won’t let himself be so pathetic that he needs Sam to take care of him. He races for the door, dodging when Sam lunges for him. He hears a loud crash behind him as he throws himself through the door. He doesn’t look back to see Sam sprawled on top of the overturned couch, blood running down his arm and tears flowing down his face.

x x x

Cas isn’t sure how many days it’s been or what town he’s in, but he doesn’t care anymore. He wanders streets aimlessly, tracking down just enough food to keep him alive and scouting for places to keep warm at night. Winter is coming and he isn’t sure how much longer he can keep it up, but Cas is terrified that if he settles down he’ll start to forget. He can never let that happen, because regardless of how hard Cas’ days are, the nights are always worth it.

Cas finds a overhang at the end of an alley that more or less provides enough shelter from the rain. He wraps his arms tightly around himself and leans his head back as he slides down the wall, too exhausted to keep standing. His eyes close and he slumps forward, but strong arms catch him and hold him upright as he sits on the hard pavement.

“Dean?” He doesn’t want to open his eyes, and he doesn’t need to. He can feel Dean’s breath flutter across his face, can picture concern in Dean’s eyes. He knows if he really looks at Dean, the concern won’t be there so he imagines it instead.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean gently pulls Cas onto his lap until Cas is leaning against his chest. Cas can hear Dean’s heartbeat, feel it reverberating through him.

“Never let me go.”


End file.
